


Tabloids

by porntorlls



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porntorlls/pseuds/porntorlls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all a big misunderstanding, really!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to seem disjointed at first, but read chapter 2 and it will make sense, I promise!

“Have you seen the recent issue of Gotham Gossip?” Bruce mumbles as he adjusts the magnification on his microscope, not even bothering to look up when Dick enters the cave.  
“Should I have?” He types a code into the computer in front of Bruce and begins flicking through files, “What are the fine socialites of Gotham up to now?”  
Bruce doesn’t speak for a long moment, and Dick is ready to end the conversation and pretend it had never happened. “Nothing.” He grunts; and of course Bruce would find a way to make a grunt sound smug.  
Dick chews on the inside of his mouth before getting out of the ergonomic computer chair, and going towards the locker room to find his keys.  
“Alfred has a copy; Lucius sent one over this morning.”  
Dick frowns at his mentor before giving up on the man noticing his expression and hurrying up the stone staircase. Bruce is unbearable when he’s trying to make a joke, he actually preferred to being beaten black and blue in a ‘play fight’ to having to listen to Bruce’s attempts at humour; how the man managed to charm half of Gotham he’d never know, although three banks full of money might sway public opinion.  
Bruce’s money was not what he was interested in right now, what he was interested in was the glaringly pink magazine sitting on the closest coffee table. The front cover was a shaky shot of him pulling another man into a hotel with big block letters across the bottom of the page _‘See Dick run – continued on page 26’_  
He almost tore the copy up right then and there before thinking better of it and flipping through the pages until he finally found 26; what was the point of putting numbers on the pages if they were only on every seventh?  
 _‘Richard Grayson - the truth behind his mysterious love life’_  
 ___‘He’s the second most sought after bachelor in Gotham City, arguably the most desirable – this girl wouldn’t mind a go – and he’s just been spotted rushing into the most expensive hotel with another man. That’s right girls, put away your newspaper clippings, it seems the hunk has hunkered down with another man._  
 _“How do you know? He might have been late to a business meeting!” I hear you cry, and you need only flip the page to see the candid shots our star photographer snapped of a very fit, very naked Richard Grayson standing by the floor to ceiling windows speaking to his lover._  
 _The mystery man has yet to be identified, and when he is I wouldn’t mind asking him for a few home videos; but it’s obvious that the ex-cop (yes ladies, he knows how to use a set of cuffs) has great taste in men._  
 _When asked, an insider revealed that the young Grayson hasn’t had his eye on women for a long time and hints towards a possible long term relationship between him and the mystery man “He’s been standing girls up to indulge in male company since he was old enough to date, no one was surprised when he introduced his new partner, and as far as I am aware they’ve been completely accepted by the family.”  
We here at Gotham Gossip are happy for Richard and his new partner and only hope that they send us a few photos; pick up next week’s issue for more details on the socialite’s new romance!’_  
He flips the page and sure enough some pictures of him standing in front of the windows with bright red ‘censored’ circles covering his crotch are covering the page.  
He hears his phone ringing, but he doesn’t have to pick it up to know who it’s going to be and what they’re going to say. He imagines Jason’s voice through the shitty speakers, “What do you prefer? A machine gun, a landmine, or a grenade?”  
Someone will pay for this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the record straight.

He’s enjoying lunch in one of his favourite cafes, an opportunity so rare that he’d planned it two weeks in advance and cleared it with Bruce. Nothing is going to ruin his stuffed mushrooms, not today.  
Not unless Jason Todd, day ruiner expert, had just plonked himself down in the seat opposite him, “don’t be alarmed, but right about now we’re sitting in the cross hairs of one of America’s sharpest shooters.” He grins and leans over to steal one of the mushrooms before continuing. “So sharp that I think I’m bleeding to death from my shoulder,” He grins again, but his eyes look like he’s considering murder, “these are good by the way, not as good as Alfred’s but I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this place yet.”  
Dick moves without thinking, grabbing Jason’s arm and pulling him into the crowded street, only just remembering to slam down a handful of money beside his almost untouched plate of mushrooms.  
They move quickly through the crowd, ducking a little so as not to stand out too much, and are in sight of one of Bruce’s safe houses with only one very wide, very clear street to cross. “Are you up for a jog?” Dick asks, looking over at the younger man who grins wide.  
“Would I really be standing here if I wasn’t able to run with a bullet in my shoulder?” He replies curtly, “Hurry up before I use you as a human shield.”  
Dick pouts but takes Jason’s advice, sprinting out between cars with Jason close behind; he hears a dull thump and Jason is swearing, something about a ‘mother fucking bullet’ which apparently just passed his head and embedded itself in the tarmac. “I thought you said you could run!” Dick puffs as they make it into the air conditioned lobby, ignoring the strange stares and glances the rest of the clientele are sending them.  
“Still on the seventy-third floor? Would it kill him to change it up a bit?” Jason is gasping now, leaning heavily against Dick as they ride the private elevator up to the higher floors.  
“Probably.” Dick shoots back, tapping his foot impatiently as the numbers sped past on the digital screen.  
“You’re not being very accommodating, is it because I ate your mushroom? I’m not sorry.” He manages to laugh, and if he weren’t bleeding out Dick would have punched him very hard in the nose; instead he takes a step away, causing Jason to stumble and almost fall before catching himself on the smaller man again. “Jesus Christ Dickie, I’m dying here.”  
He pinches the bridge if his nose, “You’re not making it a very easy decision to help you.” Dick sighs, putting an arm around Jason’s shoulders as the elevator stops and pings, doors sliding open to reveal a very short corridor with only one door. He leads the younger man towards it, hoping Bruce kept the bar stocked; they were going to need something strong for this.  
“Get in the tub.” He orders, making sure Jason can walk that far before rushing into the kitchen to find a bowl and the complimentary sewing kit nobody ever used. On his way back to the bathroom he picks out the strongest bottle of alcohol he can find, hoping to every God he knows that the hotel had kept stocking the bathroom with hospital grade disinfectant.

“You still alive in there?” He shouts, rushing to the bathroom with the armful of equipment.  
“How much were you hoping I wouldn’t answer?” Jason croaks back as Dick bursts into the room, searching behind the fogged up mirror for the disinfectant, tweezers, and a box of dental floss.  
“Only a little,” Dick replies with a grin, hoping Jason will take it the right way; which by the short bark of laughter he did. “Now hold still, because this is going to hurt.” He knells down, cutting Jason’s shirt at the sleeves and down the middle so it falls off without aggravating the wound.  
“You’re right, I paid seventy dollars for that shirt.” Jason hisses as Dick begins searching for the bullet fragments, glad not to see the white specks of bone which would have made the whole procedure a lot harder.  
“Here,” He hands the younger man the bottle of cherry schnapps he’d taken from the liquor cabinet, “Thank Bruce for that next time you see him.”  
“Cherry schnapps? This stuff’ll kill me before the bullet does.” Jason complains, taking the bottle regardless and drinking from it in large gulps that should have left anyone else spewing their guts up, while Dick pretends not to hear the sharp gasps of pain that are being pushed into the bottle.

The process is slow because he doesn’t want to hit an artery or a nerve cluster and risk doing more damage than he’s preventing; but finally it’s over and he can start stitching up the deep wound; with much less of a struggle from Jason.

Jason is almost delirious and by the time his wound is cleaned and no longer a gaping hole on his shoulder and he’s almost vibrating with the force of his shivering.  
“You’re going into shock, I need to warm you up, so don’t try to kill me for this okay?” Dick all but yells, pulling his clothes off hurriedly and turning the faucet so the temperature sits at just below unbearable.  
“As if going into shock wasn’t bad enough, now I have to sit with your fucking dick in my back?” Jason hisses between chattering teeth, making room for Dick to slide in behind him.  
“If you want to live.”  
“F-Fuck you” Jason spat, relaxing against his chest, “You t-tell anyone about this and I’ll f-fucking kill you.”  
“This is embarrassing for me too, why would I ever tell anyone?”  
“Because you’re a f-fucking cunt.”

Dick tells Bruce everything, he leaves out the naked bit, pretends he was wearing boxers; so almost everything, but he thinks Bruce probably figured he was leaving something out anyway. And Jason can’t have hated him being naked as much as he said he did because they’re meeting up for ‘thanks-for-saving-my-life drinks’ later in the week; a tradition he’d started with the Titans which usually meant ‘thanks for saving my life, let me show you what exactly you saved for three hours in a shitty motel bed.’  
All was right in the world, until Wednesday came around.


End file.
